My home town is putting in a new herring run (fish ladder) between the upper spring fed pond (originally a small lake in a glacial pothole, enlarged by damming) and the lower pond (formed likewise by damming of the stream from the upper pond. The old one has been defunct for close to 40 years and they finally realized that this has halved the size of the spawning grounds for the herring. and they wonder why the population has dropped.

Of course originally there was a lot less spawning area, because the upper (originally only) pond was only about half the size it has been for the last couple hundred years, and the lower pond didn't exist at all until sometime in the 1600's; but so many other spawning grounds have been destroyed I guess they feel they need to recoup this one. And since they can, yes, it is a good thing.

Of course - what could have been done with a few bags of sackrete in the 1960's is now going to cost the town and state about 60 thousand - but that's progress, right?

Sigh. How comes it to pass that by wriing this posathumous post, having just been felled by two stout vilains, you can pretend to yourself you have reversed such mortal harm twice over? Truly the internet is a miracle, or else some terrible liar!

A draw across prime, the tip coming up and around into quarte, parrying both blades into sixte, a demi-moulinet, a drop into cinque and an upwards push cut between the legs of one and he's out; a draw cut to pull the blade back and a parry in sixte, a riposte skewering in along the blade and over the guard, entering into the armpit and coming out the other side.

And my style will quell your urges. Avaunt, wretch! Ha! Stroke, parry, and thrust, and it is done! Another foe vanquished! Verily he doth resemble a deflated balloon, once so grand to look upon, now a perforated gasbag lying miserably in the dust. Sic transit gloria Rapairundi.

It may be above average, but it is not congruent with your general aura of sophisticated and lofty certainty. It grates. It suggests that the king may be traipsing about the castle oblivious of the fact that one shoe is untied and his fly is open. Not good enough! If you are going to parade about magestically in the armour of invincible intellectual omnipotence, my good sir, you have to pay attention to these niggling little details...lest your subjects become uneasy.

It was destroyed by Cromwell's forces during the English Civil War of 1278. Lady Umbrage was forced into The Nunnery, a notorious place of riotous religious fervor, after her husband, Lord Umbrage, was executed by being drawn and quartered (the sketch was soooo bad it was ripped into four pieces and Lord Umbrage died of apoplexy). Lady Umbrage spent the rest of her life as a flagellant, giving great pleasure to some of England's greatest and most notorious roues with her "Cell Of Naughtiness."